Sin, Tragedies, and Redemption
by HFA
Summary: Nothing can change the past but sometimes it is all meant be be just as it is, even if that understanding it outside the scope of the understanding of those in the moment. YAOI RoyEd


**Sin , Tragedy and Redemption**

**ima demo kono mune no oku **

**kesenai tsumi wa itamukedo**

_Their hearts deep inside… _

…_still hurt from the inerasable sin_

Kesenai Tsumi (Unerasable Sin)

Artist: Nana Kitade

**Chapter 1: Happy Birthday**

The taste of copper penetrated his mouth and the warmth of blood trailed down in a trickle down over the rosy lips slowly. A cut on his upper lip was the source to the crimson plasma. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he picked himself up off the kitchen floor ignoring the stale smell of cigarette smoke that had always lingered in the room. Long ago the walls and woodwork had yellowed from nicotine due to the chronic smoker that frequented the home. Hands clenched at his sides and the pale fifteen year old hardly managed to side step the last fist, though the howl of anger and pain as the fist heading his way hit the wall made him smirk.

"You little son of a bitch!" The older man, in his late forties cradled his injured hand, well aware even in his alcohol hazed mind that he had broken something. It was tender and he couldn't touch too close to his index and middle finger. Four of the metacarpals in his hand were shattered and there was a dent in the wall in the shape of the grown man's fist.

"No.." For the first time the words were defiant. There would be a struggle this time. Resistance. A fight. One he would not lose, could not if he wanted to live with the current state of his father. The father that he looked so much like, the only difference besides their age was their eyes. His father's were a deep blue, one faded with time and age into a dull hazed mix of blue and grey that held nothing but cruelty. "I'm not letting you think you're a big man anymore because you can hit a child!"

"You know better than to give me lip boy.." The older man's uninjured hand closed around the bottle on the counter beside him and tossed it, hard, toward his son. "Weak..you always were you bastard.."

If only he had been a bastard life would have been so much easier. "I'm not weak! Just because a man half a foot taller than me and a good hundred pounds heavier than me can throw me around doesn't make me weak. It makes him a coward." The second bottle struck his raised arm and the teenager cried out slightly as the glass cut into his arm, leaving scratches, and a few on his cheek since the target had been his face. Just like the old man had said. The key targets on an opponent were the knees, throat and the eyes. Obviously the last had been the target.

There had been fights between father and son before but this was the worst of them and there was a strong reason for him to believe that if he was not careful he would not leave this house against alive. The look in those dying blue eyes told him harm was coming his way. No..harm wouldn't be enough the man wanted more blood. His father had always wanted blood. That was why he was a willing dog to the military. They let him kill without consequence. An attack dog without any sense of mercy. A mad dog bent on the scent of death and the taste of panic in blood.

The table was over turned and the bottles on the table, some still partially full, fell to the floor covering it in shards of glass of numerous shades. Blue, brown, tan, and clear. Bit of paper were also scattered around from the labels.

Caught off guard by the sudden speed of the intoxicated man the fifteen year old boy fell back onto the glass covered floor. _Sloppy work..if you give him much more room like that he's going to kill you._ That was all the teen could think as a hand raised up pushing at the foot on his chest to try and remove it. The older man still had the benefit of being the heaviest and strongest of the two. Wincing he felt the glass digging into his arms and his back as he struggled more, ebony eyes narrowed. Breathing was easier once the boot stopped grinding down into his chest but the kick to his side made it harder again. Rolling away from the pain on instinct the younger and smaller of the two men got to his knees, causing the shards under him to tear at his old already worn jeans. A broken rib was enough to make him grit his teeth and a good enough warning to make him recognized under estimating the middle ages onyx haired men just because he'd had a few.

"Hurt didn't it.."

It was a taunt and it made his blood heat in anger. He was used to being mocked by the man that still towered over him, but during beatings he usually only shouted things, some of which made no sense.

"You hear me mutt? You're going to more than hurt for this.."

So he was being threatened with death after all. There would be no restraint over the beating so he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of begging for his life if he got him to that point.

Red was smear over parts of the floor and was slowly beginning to spot the clothes he wore. Smiling he remember one thing his father had told him in youth.

_A man who has nothing to lose is the most dangerous kind of opponent you will lever face on any field of battle because his life means nothing to him. There is no glory he cares for..no prize that can coax his soul to concern over its own existence. _

That was what he was. There was nothing for him to stay..then again his father was the same. Neither had a purpose. They just were. So did that make it final? Would this be the last fight they would have? Yes. They both knew it too. Someone wasn't going to walk away from this fight, possibly both of them would never get up again.

That's why switching to the offensive seemed like a good idea.

It was the first time he had ever hit his father and when his blood smeared fist hit the man's jaw it felt good. A little too good. It made the demon in his chest roar in victory, in pride. Because it felt so good he hit him again and again. It gained him some ground to have the old man backing up and grunting in pain at the assault of the smaller boy's fists. If nothing else his father had taught him how to fight.

After all why would a Major's son be an easy target for the school children to beat? No that was not allowed. If his son got into fights he was to finish them. To make an example of anyone who dared to come up against him, to question him.

For the first time in his life he wanted to do that. To make an example of his father.

A fist made contact with his stomach and cause him to double over as well as knock the wind right out of him. It didn't take long for the him to hit the floor after that but his chest and abdomen ached now. A booted foot stomped down on his ribcage, hard enough to cause a soft cracking to come to his ears even with his yelp of pain.

"Crying just like a dog..like that bitch mother of yours." The voice was gruff and slightly slurred. To the anger of the youth the elder reached into his jacket pockets to light a cigarette. It was insulting really that the old man thought he could be so lax, a dark fire had begun to spread inside the ebony eyes of the teenager giving him enough strength to grit his teeth and bare the pain.

"Don't…talk..about her..like that!" Gritted out between firmly set teeth together in pain and intense rage they loosened only slightly when the foot on his chest was removed. Panting he stood looking in surprise at his father who was holding the side of his face while the cigarette lay on the floor smoking. A slight hint of burned flesh came to his nose turning the lips into a dark, twisted smirk. "Hurts doesn't it?" Tossing the words back without any remorse. Not understanding how it had happened the teen glared at his father watching as a trail of fire moved up from the dropped smoke on the floor before it burst close to the older man's chest knocking him back. The grunt of pain and surprise gave him confidence, gave him the feel he wasn't powerless. Not even when the older man looked up at him, with eyes so similar did the boy feel any sort of pity for him or sorrow. Instead it invoked rage and hatred, where even the sight of the charred face of his father didn't seem like enough suffering.

It all went so fast after that it was hard to make out anything definite. A blur when it came to detail but the gist was well understood.

"I AM NOT A DOG!" Instead of a single stream of fire he saw many and they moved together for a far stronger blast than was previously seen. His father was knocked back hard into the stove of the kitchen while some flame remained feeding off of the puddles of alcohol dotting the small kitchen. The cloth of the older man's jacket had caught and he was frantically trying to put it out.

Standing in the focus of the fire was the fifteen year old boy glaring still at his father, the spurts of flame around the room growing as the temperature began to escalate. Even if he was sweating now the heat was reassuring . Something about watched the dancing flames made his confidence hold now and it was as if these fires were the tactile form of his pain and suffering over the years. He heard his father muttering something about demons but the words fell on now deaf ears as he used the still burning, and growing, fires to set more of the small home ablaze.

The temperature of the room was sweltering now, the kitchen an oven itself now. The fire was burning out of control now and that brought about fear to both the dark haired males because there was no way out the fire had encircled them in the tiny kitchen. They were going to die then be burned even if still alive.

"What have you done..what have you done..?" The elder asked from the floor leaning back against the stove that he'd been flung against from the earlier blast, a small stream of blood running down over his forehead to his neck soaking the collar of his shirt. Oddly enough the worn and bleeding man began to laugh, as if there was nothing more amusing in the world then the current situation. "Killed by a brat."

It was then that it truly hit the youth what had done. Sentenced them both to death. Doing the first that came to mind, the blind instinct to live, the boy ran arms up over his face to protect it from the flames and ran right through them. Blindly and choking on smoke somehow in the haze and heat he managed to get outside.

The night air felt cold against his skin burned and in places, mostly the arms that had done their best to protect the still somewhat childish frame. Crackling of fire filled the air as the teen sank to his knees hearing a shrill cry of pain cut through the falling and burning house. "I..didn't mean to.." Another cry came as the small structure collapsed upon itself still burning away. A third cry rang out but it was from the teenager fisting his dark hair between his fingers it omitted from, tears running down his face quickly making the smudged of soot on his face run and the wounds the salty tears hit sting.

Then it faded to black..

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Starting awake with the a sharp gasp onyx eyes widened considerably. General Roy Mustang lifted his head up off of his arm looking around the dark office only lit by his desk lamp now. The office was empty, as were the corridors outside the time near three in the morning. His intentions hadn't been to fall asleep earlier, whenever that was. Sitting up fully the man let out a groan feeling the stiffness in his back and shoulders from his sleeping position. Stretching slightly he lifted a gloved hand to massage the back of his neck while rising to his feet to go make some coffee.

"Father..decided to say happy birthday?" Roy questioned the thin air with a strained smirk. Oh course he would remember the murder of his father on the morning of his thirty-second birthday. Shrugging it off he just went on walking his body saying sleep but his mind had decided caffeine was a fair enough substitute.

Having grown used to late nights like this the now General was at ease in the almost completely deserted building. Though the legislature had taken to governing the country Roy still was working to push up to Fuhrer, nothing more than the head of the military now, to maintain his goal of clearing the military of it's old practices. The struggle to get there was hard yet the struggle to repair the damage that Bradley and others had done would be far more so. Not to mention time consuming.

Still not certain what had brought about the memory disguised as a dream he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. It could likely have a great deal to do with the order on his desk. The testing for new State Alchemists had come around and far be it from Mustang nature to sit back and let others determine who had a right into the military with the destructive capabilities of an alchemist. What disturbed the man was the list of names. Most he wouldn't have bothered to worry about since he did not know them but one had caused the man's eyes to widen earlier that day. Alphonse Elric. Apparently the boy wanted into the military for the resources, just like a certain blonde before him. It was only a matter of time he knew before the younger Elric brother would be in to speak with him about the tests. Roy was not much looking forward to the conversation but seeing Alphonse again was different.

After Al had been returned to his body he had no memory of the time that had passed and was once more an eleven year old boy. It reminded Roy of something like a reset button being pushed. Jumping back to the beginning for a second try.

Roy was still at debate with himself as to whether it was a good or bad idea to let Alphonse into the hold of the military. Of course if he helped the boy it would be easy to push the boy's rank beyond even his brother's upon becoming a state alchemist. Alphonse was impressive like his brother had been but not quite as much, always causing others to think of Edward as the driving force of the pair yet the Colonel had always known it was a balancing act. The now thirteen year old would make a good addition to his team, not to mention they all had always held a soft spot for the Elric brothers. Roy himself included despite how much he used to tease Edward. Not to mention the boy might like to be around friendly faces in his research again even if he didn't quite remember them all as he should. Also Al's main project was of great interest to him.

"I can only hope he figures it out. Having both of them around again would do us wonders." It was easy to lose hope after all that had gone on to cause them the loss of Fullmetal. Then his fight with the Fuhrer, the damage done to his eye. Thankfully it had healed after these past years though he still couldn't quite see properly out of it.

Taking a sip from his mug he started back toward his office in silence. He'd be working well into the evening again unless Riza and Jean forced him to go home and rest. He'd have to stop by Maes' grave later to leave new pictures of the man's wife and daughter. He'd been doing that for awhile now. A new addition to that ritual his legs would carry him over to the empty grave labeled for Edward. Sometimes he would sit beside the stone and talk, others he was stare down at it, and even a few times the man had fallen asleep sitting beside it to spend the night against the cool stone. Who was he kidding it was more than a few times. Havoc and Hawkeye bore witness to the disheveled appearance of their superior all too often curled up on the grave of either his best friend or the boy he had promised to protect and failed. The time he spent tossing insults at the headstone begging with his eyes to hear something returned with the blonde's snappy wit. Something that Roy hated to admit to himself was that even if there was no body in that casket marked as Edward Elric's that didn't mean he wasn't dead, wherever he was.

Sitting back in his chair feet propped up on his desk Roy sat with the steaming mug in his hands the warm aroma of the coffee suddenly not near enough to remove the chill in his bones. "Not as it the boy would die easily. He'd a damned legend after all. Alchemist of the people. With two automail limbs Edward is something to be contended with. He has enough potential to beat me even." Though to most it would have sounded cocky the words didn't hold much sincerity in them. Over the years Roy had had his ass handed to him on numerous occasions, he just never choose to share those stories. Well maybe from time to time he dared to but never much and usually only when drinking.

Tonight it didn't appear that Roy was going to get anymore work done so he decided now was a good a time as any to reminisce. Setting the mug down onto his desk after taking a long sip he looked at the framed photo on his desk. "If you could see us now. We could use you around Hughes, don't have much to laugh about. Though I suspect you'd be tiring yourself out over Ed's disappearance still. You were like a surrogate father to him after all and I can't say I wasn't a tad envious." Realizing he was talking to a photo he laughed a bit at himself quite glad he was the only living thing in the building at this hour. "Just one thank you would have been nice than being called a bastard for the umpteenth time. Ah how I wish.." Leaning over his desk now the General wore an amused smile, soft and very un-Mustang by most standards. "I'll just be Colonel-Bastard but that's how most people see me isn't it? The military's dog that snaps at the ankles of the innocent townsfolk, the mutt begging for scraps from the higher ups. Did I really become that man Maes?" Wishing now more than ever his friend might stroll in or that the picture might give him some words of wisdom Mustang shook his head. "I need to get some sleep if I'm talking to inanimate objects again."

Hopefully no one would remember what today was. Knowing his luck the lot of them would all remember and throw some stupid office party. Yes the man would appreciate the thought but he didn't particularly take joy in the fact he was another year older without snatching the title Fuhrer. Repairs still needed to be done in the military ranks despite the work that the legislature had done to remedy the conflicts of the people. Lior wasn't at peace yet, Ishbalian were still labeled was wanderers something which he was partly responsible for.

The war had changed so much about him. The boyish attitude he once had was gone, something he knew Hughes felt guilty of. His friend had remained under the research branch while he was carted off to battle. It was strange to order men around in that chaos but he did well enough, even getting some compliments for his handle of men under pressure. The very presence of the young, healthy and strong Major Mustang had commanded obedience much like the form of General he was now. Before the war it built off of respect and just the poise the dark haired alchemist held but after the war it was mostly out of fear others obeyed. The reputation which the man had earned after the war was one of a ruthless killer, a cold blooded man who worked under Colonel Grand without protest, simply obeying orders. No matter how cruel. They were only rumors and like all such things even if based on fact with time became distorted and hazy, horrible creatures that bred hate and distain.

Hardly able to feel the warm porcelain of the mug in his fingers anymore Roy drifted into his memories.

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Ignoring the prickle of fear that rose along the back of his neck making the hairs stand on end the dark haired Major retained his crouching position muttering in soft tones to on the Sergeant to move back with the progress made in intelligence. A part of Mustang had to wonder if the information would drift back onto his friend's desk. Did Maes dread seeing a paper with his named scrawled upon it with details about the enemy? Knowing his friend yes he would but he'd never show it.

With the report off it was time for them to start the raid. Glancing at the group of men behind him, some calm as himself, other muttering in muted excitement, the last of them cringing in guilt and fear. It reminded him so much of playing war with friends in the neighborhood at night, the ones who were afraid of the dark always huddling close to the leaders of the faux military group. "Come on boys it's starting." Getting up to his feet fully and walking back a few paces in the dark only lit in the occasional spots by a soft lamp. Ordering them to be doused the men shifted on their gear and to their feet like their commander. A few were praying and Roy didn't choose to join them. He'd never been a man of god or demon. Hell he wasn't a man of faith. What faith was there to have when science and religion butted heads so often. It was several minutes spent in silken before Roy was leading along his pack in silence over the still front, through the darkness and onto enemy territory to dismantle one of the stores. An attempt to cripple at least a branch of enemy forces.

The men were ducked slightly to make the targets of themselves smaller and Roy was doing the same moving at a brisk pace, listening to the crunch of sand and dirt under his boots. The night was cold but he hardly felt it the heat of adrenaline in his system here already in his anticipation. He could hear his heart beat in his ears but the expression on his face remain stoic, controlled and cool.

The closer they got the louder the sound of his heart became in his ears. Feet picking up the pace a little wondering if the cover of darkness would be enough. Likely not. Soon enough the gunfire would begin, and he could only hope that the snipers be lax tonight. Maybe his luck would hold out since there was only about twenty meters left until the old cracked buildings. There was only about two intact now. Splitting the group into two the Major sent off the stronger of the men under Second Lieutenant Green's command while he kept the others with him. Green wasn't used to commanding so he would need skill to help him where the men were used to his orders and obeyed with hardly realizing at times. All it took was a wave of his hand and the parties separated and headed forward at a jog.

Some looked unnerved at being separated but under the dark gaze of their commander and with a quick smile they had been assured enough to follow like the obedient dogs they were trained to be. Give the dogs a pat on the head and it would follow tail wagging.

His other men out of clear sight by now Mustang paused back to see if there was a guard patrolling the area and there was none oddly enough, so on they marched. Moving like a foreboding wind the men stormed the storehouse only to see it appeared empty. There was no dust covering the floors or walls no but it was nearly empty. Some crates were piled up but they were flat against the wall and all of them closed. The scent of gunpowder and oil hit them upon entering, a wave of still war. The preparation. Apparently the words of the enemy getting some new arms was not a lie after all. It was then that the Major heard the faint groan of wood against weight but all of his men were still he thought. The gloved had extended commanded them to be still but there was silence this time. One of the men must just have shifted so he let them go spreading out through the store looking about.

The walls were dry and cracked, the white stucco like material spotted and darkened with the disuse, war and just age. The building was rather large and the floors were made of wood that was slightly warped likely from water and blood, as well as time.

There was an echo in the large space that was filled with the loud snapping bang of gunfire. It was sudden. The thumps after were as well, as stillness and silence took the space again. Ebony eyes widened. It was a trap. They'd seen them coming and instead of picking them off on the way they were going to take them out in the building itself. They'd be trapped in their domain. Ordering his men against the walls Roy himself got down knowing his loud order would have alerted those waiting to his presence. Sure enough not long after his shout gunfire broke out again. In his panic Roy snapped toward the area of some fire based on the holes in the walls now and heard a few cries of pain after the flare up.

What happened next never really left Roy Mustang.

With a thundering boom and a blast of heat Major Mustang realized the other store house was gone. A glance the dingy windows at the sudden burst of light from outside revealed the building to have gone up. The smoke rising hid the rubble but some things didn't need to be seen to be known.

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Setting his mug down on the desk with a slightly shaky hand Roy shook away the remnants of the memory at the knock on his office door. Looking up the sight he was greeted with was worry in a pair of soft brown eyes. It was six already?

"Sir..?" The voice of his most loyal subordinate was hesitant, the look to her made Roy able to detect easily was that she felt she was intruding on him. He hadn't even heard her come up so she might have been there for several minutes now. "Is everything alright?"

"I believe 'alright' is subject to serious dissection."

"Don't talk like that." The blonde woman looked rather pained to hear such speech out of her commanding officer. Roy was never one to quite speak like this even after Maes' death those years ago. Like the dutiful friend that the General was he visited the grave often, and liked the man he was would fall asleep from time to time against the cool stone that was the resting place of Maes Hughes. It was a sorry sight to see what the once proud, ambitious man had been reduced to.

"It is nothing beyond the truth and I am not the only one that would say such things Hawkeye. Do not take it so darkly as you may be led to believe." Roy was trying to reassure her but in all honesty there seemed little he could do as of late to make anyone think he was not head long into the draws of depression. Maybe he truly was. Things hadn't felt right in too long. Only so many would be fooled by the falseness he presented with ease, years of practice in the military. Hawkeye was not one he could pass it off with. "Besides isn't it darkest before dawn?"

He had not even known what possessed himself to say it, likewise the woman was looking at him oddly for it. Riza Hawkeye the one most loyal to him. His confidante., yet there were things that even she did not know.

"G-General.." It was odd to hear stuttering even if it was scarcely audible from the usually stoic, assured blonde. Gloved fingers rested lightly against her shoulder, a weak assuring smile given to ease the concern.

"We all have memories we are not fond of. Our ghosts, but even if we are haunted it does not mean that we have forgotten there is a world of flesh and blood." With that Riza Hawkeye watched the dark haired man march off with only the click of his boots against the floors, and the sounds of the door squeaking slightly at his departure.

Staring after the other made her wonder just how many ghosts could crowd the Flame Alchemist's mind before he lost himself. It wasn't Riza's concern alone either. Things had not seemed right with their leader since the demise of Fuhrer King Bradley but only Riza had seen the change at the mention of Fullmetal. Once Roy's body had recovered from the struggles of his final battle did she feel it was right to tell him. Say that Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, had vanished completely from this world had caused ebony eyes to widen in a means Riza had never witnessed before. She had seen fear and loathing in those eyes before as well as happiness and sorrow but what greeted her then was complete disbelief. An unwillingness to believe. No one could have predicted just how shaken the Colonel would have been at the news. After a week of silence in solitude refusing anyone who came to him Mustang had gone to Dublith where he said he needed to meet a few people. It was obvious that with the news of Alphonse once going again with his Teacher to learn alchemy the man wanted to see the younger Elric. Yet the trip had not been to see Al alone but the Teacher herself as well.

The woman that had taught Edward and Alphonse Elric about alchemy was a woman by the name of Izumi Curtis. Working in the butcher's shop in Dublith with her husband Sig in peace now with her student. Even Riza knew to a point about Izumi's sickness, the fact her life was drawing to a close on itself.

Roy had been gone for two months but when he had returned he seemed far more himself than ever. He'd started talking about becoming Fuhrer again yet even with the sound of the old man they knew the dark eyes were not the same.

Many who had never known Mustang considered him a cold, calculating man alone but there was a warmth to Roy Mustang that was not limited to his alchemy. Now that was mostly what the man showed to even those who knew him well. Still there were rare displays of emotion, yet most often the man looked lost and forlorn.

Staking papers and ordering them in silence Riza Hawkeye had to give a weak smile. No one had made the connection before, not even herself until recently. Only a few days ago to be truthful. There was no mistake to this latest discovery. Hope had shown in those dark eyes and the firm line of Roy's mouth had turned up at the sides slightly. He'd smiled for the first time in ages at news that Alphonse would be back. The boy wanted certification as a State Alchemist.

The pile waiting for Mustang's return wasn't too large the usual few inches, but Hawkeye took the hardly touched mug of coffee. She would dump it out like most that she recovered from the desk. Roy would get some but never touch it working on instead of drinking the liquid he claimed he needed to function. A sip or two was the most that was usually gone form the mugs whenever she saw them. It was more habit to get it than need for the General. Routine was a comfort after these past few years. The woman herself was no stranger to such ideas.

"Do you regret your silence? Or is it…you felt it came to you all too slowly?" With the office empty there was no concern that someone might hear her. Sometimes the best thinking was done out loud. After all most often when something was heard were mistakes noticed. "Is that why you wander to his grave so often? To confess?" It seemed most likely. It was the most Roy-esque thing to do after all. "Will you ever even say it to the stone though Roy?" Glancing over her shoulder at the open door she was greeted by nothing. Riza had not expected anything so it did not seem of significance that the doorframe was empty.

"Roy! Roy!"

There was little more the Flame Alchemist could do than turn at the call of his name in a familiar voice he couldn't place right away. Before he could inquire a blur of red had fixed itself around his middle a pair of arms holding tightly to his taller frame. Taking a step back to keep himself from falling back into the concrete with the weight against him tossed so suddenly into him.

Ignoring the eyes of the uniformed men around him Roy looked down blinking at the sight of dusty blonde hair that greeted him features melting into a rare smile. Now it made sense.

"Hello to you too Alphonse." Giving the head of blonde hair a light pat with a gloved hand. Al reached up to his chest at least, maybe a few inches taller than Edward when he'd last seen him. It was odd for him to receive affection but it didn't appear he minded the display from the thirteen year old. "It's been awhile hasn't it?"

Nodding lifting his head from where it he started to press against the navy fabric taking the man's cologne that was both familiar and new. "It's been too long. Oh Teacher wants to know what's taking you so long to become Fuhrer. She was expecting it to happen a lot faster I guess."

"It's not quite as simple as she thinks it is. I'm working on it. There's more concern for the state of the country itself than who is seated at the head of the military Al." Then again it was obvious Izumi would never care to learn the inner workings of the military with her hatred for it. "How is she?" Roy's voice had taken on a solemn worried note.

Al hung his head the tufts of hair that were the boys bangs shadowing his eyes when he answered. "She's dying…you know that."

"Come on let's go have some lunch. It's almost noon and I'm sure you didn't touch anything on the train." The older man said with a knowing smile.

"Eh heh, how'd you know?"

"You'd be too anxious and excited about coming back of course." That earned General Mustang a pout from the young Elric. Still the pair started off to go out from some lunch since the food in the Mess Hall was not exactly a nice way to welcome someone back. Not if you liked them at least.

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That's it for chapter one! I already got plans for number two as well. There will be RoyEd later even if it looks a little RoyAl right now. I have nothing against the pairing but I love RoyEd more. I was thinking about HavocAl since the pairing is cute in my mind and some feedback would be great.

I have no beta so forgive the errors since I tend to write at the wee hours of the morning. This chapter is a bit short for me so maybe the next one will be longer.

Yes I have seen the movie but half the ideas I have would be killed it I went along with it hence the beauty of fan fiction!

Also I do not own anything that is related to Fullmetal Alchemist since hey any yaoi fans know what would be going on if I did. It's all Hiromu Arakawa.


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